


Capriccio

by cosmicrecyclingbin



Series: Pirouette-Verse [6]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Drunk Sex, M/M, One Night Stands, PWP, Prequel, Smut, leopika - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28131981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicrecyclingbin/pseuds/cosmicrecyclingbin
Summary: The word capriccio, when applied to music, means a piece that is lively and loose, happening fast and taking the audience by storm.One fateful night, Kurapika and Leorio take each other by storm.
Relationships: Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Series: Pirouette-Verse [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033383
Comments: 10
Kudos: 85





	Capriccio

**Author's Note:**

> This is, effectively, Pirouette chapter 0.5.
> 
> This idea came to me thanks to a comment by user evaporatedeggs here on a03 and was voted on by poll on twitter.
> 
> Admittedly, this was supposed to be funnier than it is but I guess the porn jumped out idk.

“This was the worst possible idea, why did I let you convince me otherwise?”

Kurapika nursed his fourth Long Island iced tea, scowling at his best friend from across the table of the rounded booth. There was no real heat behind his words, as the alcohol was quickly mellowing the tension that had his shoulders up to his ears.

“This was a _great_ idea. You never come out to the clubs with us, and we all know how much you need to cut loose right now.”

“I agree with Pairo, all work and no play makes Kurapika a dull boy,” Hisoka sing-songed from one side of him, “You deserve a break. Let your inhibitions fade.”

“I _like_ having inhibitions,” he hiccupped, “It keeps me focused and out of trouble.”

“You’re such a stick in the mud, I doubt you could possibly do anything stupid even while blackout drunk,” Machi spoke from from the other side of him, not looking up from her own beverage.

“Why do you have to make me sound so boring?” Kurapika frowned, pulling his straw from the glass and downing the rest of the beverage. He shook his head and smacked his lips, all the alcohol having settled at the bottom.

“We aren’t saying you’re _boring_ , Pika, just that you work too hard not to live a little once in a while. Here, have a shot.”

Pairo slid over a double shot glass with a lime on the side. Kurapika took it and put the lime in his mouth, sucking out the juice, before shooting back the tequila. He winced at the burn of it going down his throat.

His face changed on a dime, his mouth pulling down in an almost pout.

“I-I just don’t get it, I was _sure_ I had that part. I worked _so hard,_ ” Hisoka’s bony hand rubbed circles into his back, “Stupid Chrollo, I hope his feet fall off.”

He put his face in his hands and his friends shared concerned glances across the table at each other.

The redhead leaned down, “You know, _Illu_ is in Sirap this week, would you like him to bring home something for you to cheer you up?”

Kurapika looked up, his ears and nose flushed with alcohol, “Illumi is rich, right?”

Hisoka blinked before smirking and cocking a brow, “He is, yes.”

“D’you think he could pay someone to kill Chrollo?”

“ALRIGHT, I think you’ve had enough to drink, Mister Murder-for-Hire,” Shalnark, who was seated next to Pairo, reached across the table and pulled away the fifth Long Island that was standing by and started sipping it himself.

This time Kurapika _did_ pout.

He put his chin in his hand and rested his elbow on the table. His vision wasn’t blurry but he was finding it hard to focus due to the mass of squirming bodies on the dance floor. His brain was starting to jumble his thoughts as well.

It was quite easy to tell he hadn’t drank in _years._

The dancer began to zone out as his friends talked around him.

A few minutes later and he sat back, posture loose. His face was flushed and he had a faraway look in his eyes and a lopsided grin on his face.

“I wanna - _hic_ \- go dance,” he interjected, silencing the rest of the group. 

Pairo grinned, deviously.

“Hell yea, Pika lets go!”

  
  


The group made its way onto the dancefloor, clustered together as they cut a rug.

Kurapika was having the time of his _life_ , hands over his head, twisting and turning, and dancing up on his friends suggestively. They were all laughing, cutting up, and then Kurapika decided to disappear.

Somehow he wound up deep within the center of the crowd, oblivious to where he was or that his friends were gone.

He was content to dance in his own little world, unaware of the amount of eyes he was catching with his half-unbuttoned, crimson silk shirt and borderline serpentine movements.

With the lights strobing and the music blasting, base thumping through the soles of his nimble feet, Kurapika lost himself.

He was jolted back into his body as someone’s broad chest pressed against his back and large hands skimmed up his hips.

Instead of being alarmed, Kurapika welcomed it, pressing himself back into the body of his mystery dance partner. He figured it _must_ have been Pairo. The alcohol clouding his mind conveniently made him forget that Pairo was quite short and shaped like a twig. This person had to be at least a head taller than him and built like a _dorito_.

He giggled and turned around in the person’s hold, coming face to face with a stranger. A very _handsome_ one, at that.

He snorted, slapping the man lightly on the chest.

“Haha, you’re not Pairo!” he called over the roar of the music.

The man, whose face was just as flushed as his own tilted his head in obvious confusion. He leaned down a bit, “I’m a pair of _what?_ ”

Kurapika found this hilarious and began to laugh, flinging his arms around the man’s neck and leaning his weight against him as he swayed his hips. His eyes focused enough to take in the features of the man. 

Somewhere between the bright eyes, plush lips and stubbly square jaw the dancer decided he liked what he saw.

His fingers played with the short strands of hair at the nape of the man’s neck and he batted his eyelashes, his speech slurring a bit as he spoke.

“You’re _shexy,_ ” he licked his lips, “I’ve never danced with someone as at-attra- _hot_ as you.”

The man preened at the compliments, clearly soaking up the praise like a sponge.

“Oh really, a pretty thing like you?

Kurapika nodded with a grin and jumped when the hands on his hips migrated to his ass and squeezed boldly. The dancer pressed even closer to the man’s body, smelling his cologne as his nose brushed against the collar of his shirt.

They didn’t talk for a while after that, concentrating on the way their bodies moved together to the rhythm of the music. The energy around them was so magnetic that several others had been drawn in and tried to pry them apart so that they could take the spot of whichever one they weren’t more attracted to. 

Kurapika didn’t take too kindly to this, eyes flashing dangerously as he swatted away eager hands and pushed his dance partner further into the crowd to get their admirers off their tails.

The man seemed quite pleased with Kurapika’s actions, giving him a dopey smile and a gaze of adoration.

“You’re hot when you’re mad,” he squeezed his ass again for emphasis, “You’re kind of a firecracker, aren’t you _blondie?_ ”

Kurapika scowled, yanking his face closer by the collar of his light blue button down.

“Call me that again and I’ll get _really_ hot for you.”

It was _meant_ to sound threatening but all it did was send the flush on the man’s face all the way down his chest, making him gape like a fish.

Moving right along as if the conversation had never happened, Kurapika’s hands began to wander as he danced. There was something buzzing just under his skin that he couldn’t place, but the more their bodies slid against each other, the more insistent it got.

His companion eagerly responded in kind, the nimble fingers of one hand slipping into his open shirt. 

They shared a glazed look that was full of heat and unasked questions. Scarlet and burnt umber seared into one another and it was as if they forgot where they were, what they were meant to be doing.

The stranger’s thumb brushed against Kurapika’s nipple, and whether or not it was an accident was a mystery. The pinch that followed the dancer’s visible gasp, however, was _entirely_ intentional.

Electricity crackled between them and soon their _dancing_ started to look a lot more like _rutting_. 

Kurapika’s muddled brain was vaguely aware of the fact that he was getting hard but he couldn’t focus enough to be ashamed.

His hands settled on the man’s broad shoulders and he went up on his toes, bringing himself almost to eye level with him.

“Hey, _guess what,_ ” he giggled, his tone conspiratorial.

The man grinned from ear to ear, “What is it?”

“I’m - _hic-_ a _ballerina._ ”

“No way, I don’t believe you!” The man laughed, a hearty sound that made Kurapika’s gut flip as much as it infuriated him.

He pouted, before smirking and leaning in to murmur into the brunette’s ear.

“ _If you take me home with you I’ll prove it.”_

That was evidently the right thing to say, because he was suddenly being grabbed by the hand and pulled through the crowd. Kurapika made him take a detour so he could grab his jacket from his empty booth and then they headed out the door.

  
  


The cool night air and soft buzz of traffic outside cooled the sweat on their skin but couldn’t quell the heat that had made itself known between them. While waiting for a cab, they stood pressed against each other, the stranger’s hands in Kurapika’s back pockets, and Kurapika’s hands exploring the firm muscles of the other’s body.

Kurapika’s mind was a jumbled mess of broken phrases and pure, unadulterated _lust._

He stared at the man’s wide mouth and thought to himself that he wished he would kiss him, and he must have actually said it outloud for in the next moment that’s exactly what happened.

  
  


They could barely keep their hands off each other in the taxi. In fact, Kurapika didn’t even _try_. His hand was resting on the bulge in the man’s dress slacks and every once in a while he would squeeze, and the man would try not to make noise, and the poor platinum-haired driver would pretend not to notice.

  
  


They _almost_ got undressed in the elevator of the man’s apartment building. By the time they got to the door of his flat, their shirts were untucked and belts were unbuckled. They stumbled out of their shoes and shared a heated kiss before clamoring all over themselves to reach the bedroom.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, clothing began to drop. Each inch of skin revealed meant another caress or squeeze from greedy fingers.

When they were both bare, the stranger leaned down to nip and suck at Kurapika’s bejeweled ear, “I believe you had something to prove to me?” he murmured against it, his voice dropping several octaves and giving the dancer palpitations.

Kurapika bit his lip and cut his eyes at him seductively before swinging his leg up and sitting his foot against his shoulder, wrapping one arm around his neck, so that he effectively did a vertical split.

His companion looked like the wind had been knocked out of him. His pupils were blown so wide Kurapika could barely see the ring of brown that made up his irises. Warm hands reverently navigated the plains and curves of Kurapika’s muscled leg as he let out a string of curses. 

The man openly ogled him for several moments before cursing and scooping him up such that the dancer’s thighs sat on his shoulders. Kurapika gave a yelp and scrambled to hold onto the man’s head and avoid hitting his own on the ceiling, and the yelp turned into a moan as something warm and wet surrounded his cock.

Kurapika’s ankles crossed behind the man and he tugged his hair, squirming as the brunette sucked the life from him. It was sloppy and uncoordinated, and there was far too much use of teeth, but Kurapika was on cloud nine, thighs clenching around the man’s neck.

The man stumbled backwards until his knees hit the bed and went down, making Kurapika shout and flail as he landed on top of the man’s head. He shifted onto his knees, hands grabbing onto the headboard of the bed.

Without missing a beat, the man began to suck him again, eagerly, and Kurapika moaned like a hired prostitute. He rocked his hips, fucking into his mouth steadily. Hands settled on his thighs and squeezed, urging him to pick up the pace.

Kurapika wasn't aware of how close he was until he looked down and the sight of his dick sliding between those swollen lips completely undid him. He white-knuckled the headboard and his hips snapped erratically. His companion took him deep into his throat and hummed around him in satisfaction and that was all it took for the dancer to spill into his mouth with a cry of surprise. 

He wasn't even fully spent before the man used his strength to manhandle Kurapika onto his back so he could hover over him. Trembling from his orgasm, the dancer clung to his shoulders as the man began to lay hickey after hickey up and down his throat. 

He sat up to grab something from the nightstand and then all of a sudden there was a finger prodding at Kurapika’s entrance. He quickly worked him open, teeth and tongue and lips toying with the sensitive skin on his chest. 

Lips closed around a pert nipple and the dancer’s back arched off the mattress as he let out a nasally keening noise.

He was suddenly aware that the man’s fingers were being replaced by something much thicker and he gasped at the pressure.

Despite his initial urgency, the man was surprisingly considerate, pushing into him slowly so that there was nothing more than the pleasant burn of the stretch. He shifted one of Kurapika’s legs over his shoulder and pressed it backwards towards his own shoulder. This wasn’t even a mild discomfort for the dancer, if anything it turned him on more.

The man definitely seemed fond of marking his lovers up, for at this point there was hardly any unbruised skin for him to paint with love bites, within his reach anyway. He shifted his focus from his neck and chest to the leg that was wantonly stretched between them and laid bites along the firm calf muscles.

Kurapika was a writhing mess. Each pump of the man’s hips sent his cock brushing against his prostate, making him gasp and moan and _mewl-_ an embarrassing noise that sober Kurapika would never own up to. He was already painfully hard again, likely due to how horribly repressed he had been in the last several years, and felt as if his gut was full of lava.

The way the man’s jaw clenched and muscles tightened suggested he was holding back, a thought that the dancer found absolutely unacceptable. He grabbed him by the hair and yanked him down so that their noses brushed together and they were panting into each other's mouths. His tone was dangerous, challenging even, as he spoke.

“I might be a ballet dancer but I’m not - _nngh_ \- not delicate. If you don’t - _ah_ \- give me everything you’ve got, you’re not worth my t-time.”

Something dark flashed in the man’s eyes and it was like a switch had been flipped. He pulled out and Kurapika whined at the loss. He sat back on his knees and pulled both of the dancer’s legs up on his shoulders before yanking him into his lap like a ragdoll.

He swiftly reentered and grabbed his hips, sliding him on and off his dick with ease as if he were a sex toy.

Between the angle and the lewdness of it, Kurapika was losing his mind. His hands fisted in the sheets and he tried to arch his hips but the stranger had full control and was determining the pace. Thankfully, he seemed to be reaching his limit and his patience was running out.

He was a sweating, grunting mess and he was quickly speeding things up, slamming Kurapika down on his cock recklessly.

Kurapika didn’t mind though, his eyes rolling back in his head every time his prostate was struck. Every pump was pretty much literally a punch to his gut and before he knew it words were spilling from his mouth.

“ _Harder, faster I need-”_

_“Oh god, yes fuck fuck fuck!”_

“ _Yes, -nnnn- fuck me just like that. You’re so big, you feel so good-”_

The encouragement went straight to the man’s groin it seemed and he picked up the pace even more, until Kurapika was a crying mess caught on the precipice of another orgasm. The stranger was at his limit as well.

“ **_Fuck_ ** , you look so good split open on my dick. Wanna fill you up,” he groaned, his gaze almost predatory, “Can I fill you up, _gorgeous_?”

Somehow managing to find his voice, Kurapika answered insistently.

“If you _don’t_ cum inside me I’ll kick your ass. Will you touch me already? I can’t-”

The man pulled him down on his cock once more and one hand left his hips to stroke his throbbing erection. He grinded his dick into the blonde’s prostate in firm circles and that was all it took for them both to let loose.

The stranger spilled into him with a snarl, babbling about how _beautiful_ he was and how _tight_ he felt and whole amounts of nonsense that he forgot even as it left his mouth.

Kurapika let out a scream so violent that it hurt his throat, his back arching up off the bed at an impossible angle. The hot feeling filling his gut made him sob as his whole body shook, staining his own belly with his release.

The man put his legs down and leaned over him to shove his tongue in to his mouth for the least glamorous kiss anyone had ever had, but Kurapika reciprocated like it was the only way for him to get oxygen.

  
  


When Kurapika had recovered enough to speak coherently he lidded his eyes and licked his lips.

_“So… you wanna see the other kinds of splits I can do?”_

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: uh its come to me that I've been doing shots wrong my entire life, so if that bugged anyone else when I described it I am TERRIBLY sorry sksjfkdkddj
> 
> Submit fanart to my Twitter @renegayde007 or email it to cosmicrecyclingbin@gmail.com
> 
> Follow me on twitter to participate in future polls!
> 
> Support me on ko-fi (pls don't feel obligated): https://ko-fi.com/cosmicrecyclingbin


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